Regrets and Memories
by MzMoon
Summary: “Do you regret it, Master?” “Regret what?” “Regret who you are. Regret what you must do. Regret what you must be the Master of.” A look at the relationship between Integra and Alucard. Also explores Pip, Seras, and Dark Walter :Mangaverse:
1. A Very Important Evening

A/N: Well, I'm taking the plunge and starting a new story, even though I'm still working on Repentance. I guess it's just how these things go.

This is set in the Mangaverse, spoilers up to the seventh volume. I suppose it's AU, because I completely ignored the Killing Field, and we're just pretending that everything just suddenly went back to normal. I know, I know, that's odd, but please, continue on anyway. This story, (Which will span several chapters) focuses on exploring Alucard and Integra's relationship, as well as looking into Seras/Pip and Dark Walter. Enjoy, and tell me if you liked it!

Edit: Format fix, and a missing sentence. Sorry!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing, or I wouldn't be writing FanFiction.

* * *

It was _that_ day again.

It came every year without fail, but Sir Integra Hellsing always managed to be caught by surprise. For her, time was narrowed down to the hours between each sunrise, broken by landmarks like Alucard's nightly visits, or Walter's morning tea. Meetings were scheduled by others, and she went to them. Hunts happened almost every night, and no grasp of the date was needed to arrange them. However, she was painfully reminded of each holiday by the Wild Geese and Seras' decorations… except for Halloween, which was marked by heavy FREAK activity. Yes, time did not run for the Director of Hellsing like it seemed to for the rest of the world.

The ignorant masses were more focused on the passing weeks, counting them, their precious days on this earth. However, Integra didn't notice them at all… this wasn't due to inattention, but more to a simple lack of interest. Lord Hellsing _knew_ she was mortal, but it didn't really register with her mind. She smoked, she fought, she refused to sleep, and more dangerously, she kept vampires as pets. And harshly reprimanded them, often. One could even say she had a childish attitude towards her mortality. _She_ couldn't _possibly_ die. Integra held on to this, even though a rather agitated No-Life King did his best to remind her of her impending demise… often.

So, it was only on this one day each year that Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing realized just how fast time flies.

_It really is rather funny_, she'd always muse, _that it isn't my birthday that puts me in such a mood._ Frankly, the only person who consistently celebrated that was Walter, and Alucard occasionally contributed, if he decided to bother. Integra herself usually forgot. No, the day that made her remember her age was this one… and to be truthful, it was far more important than the day she came into the world to both the people it involved.

For today was their anniversary.

She leaned back in her chair as she ran over the numbers in her mind. _Let's see now, 'ninety-nine was ten, then two-thousand… one… two… three… four… Fourteen years. _She smiled, taking in the heavy cigar smoke that hung in the cool air. She was alone in her office, but she knew _he'd_ be here soon. He pretended to forget, but this was important to Alucard too. She supposed Seras had complained about Pip forgetting theirs so often he'd decided to start as well. Personally, Integra couldn't imagine how Pip could _possibly_ forget, seeing as he and Seras shared a body. Integra closed her tired eyes. It was hard to believe those two were going on three years in the same body. She still had trouble telling whether she was addressing the Captain or the vampire. Sir Hellsing sighed. _If I can't by now, I suppose I never will._

The pale pink light of the dying sun had faded, giving way to the velvet darkness of the impending night. Papers were scattered on her desk, the haphazard arrangement revealing her state of mind. Normally, there were two, very separate neat piles on her work surface, one for papers that had been dealt with, and one for documents yet to be reviewed. Not tonight, on this same night, every year. Integra's computer sat lifeless, still warm from recent use. _I didn't get a thing done,_ she admitted to herself with amusement. Her pale, golden mane hung softly over her shoulders, hastily swatted away from her face with a white-gloved hand. The butt of a cigar smoked in her well-worn ashtray, and Lord Hellsing snapped open the tin container that contained her vice and produced another. It was lit with a few more automatic motions, and Integra settled in for a good smoke while she waited for the Red Devil himself to appear. _I can't keep bloody pretending that I can concentrate today._

Alucard chose to phase through the wall just then, ending her reverie. "Good evening, Master." His tattered red coat settled after his movement with a soft swish, suddenly the only noise in the huge room. Messy dark hair fell about his face in what still managed to pass for artful arrangement, and vermillion eyes fixed her with a neutral stare. Integra returned the impassive look, and gave the usual reply. "Good evening, Servant." With that she dropped her gaze to the tangle of reports and bills at her fingertips, and caught up a pen.

Heavy footfalls and the whisper of cloth told her he had moved to the window at her back, and he scuffed to a stop directly behind her chair. She decided to take no notice, and the scratch of her pen on the page continued unbroken. A companionable silence descended upon the cavernous office, punctuated by the noise of her work, and the small noises of movement Alucard made from his position at the window. It was a courtesy to her, one he rarely extended. If he so chose, he could be as silent as, well, the dead. The comforting rustlings of cloth kept her company, as she frowned at bills demanding money she didn't remember owing, and at reports that rambled about failed missions.

"It's a lovely night, Master." She paused in her inspection of a particularly outrageous fee, and twisted in her chair in order to see her servant. His back was to her, hands neatly clasped at the small of his back. He stood facing the lawn, washed white in the brilliant shower of the moonlight.

"Is that so?" Sir Hellsing returned to the paper, losing interest in this game. This sort of thing made her feel old, at the ancient age of 26. _Almost thirty. I hardly expected to make it to 20, ten years ago._

"It would be a pity to waste it indoors, Master." She set down the pen, and stood, tucking her cigar tin in her breast pocket. _God knows I'm going to need it._ She slipped out from between the chair and the heavy wooden desk, turning to face Alucard. He spun as well, lips curling into a smile, with no hint of menace. Mischief would be closer.

"Well, I would _hate _to waste a night so beautiful in your opinion," Her tone was wry, as she continued with the charade, "since I understand that you are quite the connoisseur, when one is dealing with beautiful evenings." She strode to the door, taking a second to adjust her tiepin before opening it. He was behind her in an instant, and leaned around her to open the door, holding it wide. Lord Hellsing muttered a quiet thank you, forcing herself not to rush as his presence seemed to caress her back, even though they did not touch.

* * *

This was a very special night, and it was always Walter's personal duty to make sure that Master and Servant were not disturbed. He had never been ordered to do so, but he felt that it had to be done. Call it his gift to them, if it must be called anything. He'd given the staff the night off, much to their delight, and expressly forbidden the soldiers from setting foot in the house, unless there was some sort of outstanding crisis. So, content that he had done his part, the butler sat at the small table in the kitchen, reading a collection of poetry. A steaming cup of tea sat at his elbow, which he had fixed through simple force of habit. This was one of the things he missed in his afterlife, the comforting warmth of a cracking good brew. _Oh, well. I suppose I gained far more than I lost._ The book failed to hold his attention, however, and soon Walter found himself musing on the events of this night.

He didn't remember exactly when Sir Hellsing had stopped celebrating her birthday. It had been a gradual loss, until he had been the only one to even remember the date. No, it was this day that she found special, this day that made her review her life in a brown study. She never scheduled any appointments or undertook any ventures on this day, simply choosing to catch up on paperwork and wait for nightfall.

Alucard, too, seemed to brood on this day, generally shutting himself up in his room the night before. And always, it was him who came to her, and always, it was him who decided the night's event. Walter supposed this was a comforting routine, almost a ritual, for this night of memories. They had done this for the past fourteen years, without fail. He chuckled as he remembered Alucard's anger on having to suppress a vampire and his ghoul army, eight years ago tonight. It was unavoidable, however, and the ensuing bloodbath had been horrible to behold. He had slaughtered them in record time, rushing back to Integra's side still covered in gore, feigning indifference.

Integra always told Walter of her servant's attempts at unconcern, and where he chose for them to spend the evening, but never any more. He didn't know what they did, said, or didn't say at all. Personally, he liked to imagine that they simply stood in a pleasant silence. He had to admit, he was insanely curious, particularly because each seemed to hold this night very dear. Alucard never rushed, and Integra never set time aside for herself. That they did for this was enough to show the gravity of the occasion.

He directed his attention to the door, just as Seras slipped in it. "Oh, hello Walter!" She was her usual bright self, but her grin changed to confusion as she looked around the empty kitchen. "Where _is_ everybody?"

Walter closed his book, thankful for distraction. "I gave them the night off."

She plopped into a chair across from him, propping her chin on her hands. "Oh? Why?"

"I wouldn't want them to disturb Sir Hellsing and Alucard by mistake."

"Oh, right. I completely forgot. It _is_ that night, isn't it?"

"Quite. How is Mr. Bernadette?"

She blushed, and rushed her answer. "Oh, Pip? He's fine!"

"I'm glad." Walter smiled, amused at her reaction. Undoubtedly Mr. Bernadette had chosen to make a choice comment at that moment.

Seras, still rather red, hurriedly changed the topic. "So, what is it exactly Master and Miss Integra are doing?"

"Honestly, I haven't the foggiest. I like to think they're just enjoying each other's company."

The vampiress' eyes went blank, a sure sign that she was having a conversation with her French companion. Walter sighed, and picked up his book once more, attempting to absorb himself in it once more. _This is always a slow night._


	2. Regrets

A/N: This is going to be really long, I just now realized. Good thing I'm having a lot of fun with it. –smile- This bit is just about Alu and Integra, but I assure you we'll return to Walter, Pip, and Seras in a bit. 

Thanks a ton to the three reviewers. You guys rock my world. Tell my what you think of this chapter, too! THANK YOU SO MUCH to whoever C2ed this story! I love you! (This is my third story in that archive. I feel loved.)

* * *

He followed in her wake, down the deserted halls, and silent corridors. 

They met no one, all the household servants having fled for the night, probably Walter's doing. _Hah. Good man. _The entrance was empty, and their steps rung in the enormous room. He walked down the stairs behind her, grinning at her momentary pause of surprise. Integra said nothing, however, stopping dead in her tracks in front of the door. It was his turn to take the lead. _One of her small gifts to me. How considerate._

He threw the front door wide, clomping down the steps to stand in the sweet night. She followed him without question. Alucard had decided where they were headed as soon as he had awoken, and now set off down the garden path. He could sense her confusion, and offered no explanation. He never chose the same place, and she would soon see where they were headed.

Soon her pace increased, and she moved to walk beside him. He treated himself to a quick glance, burning the profile of her face into his mind. _How she has grown…_ Images flashed through his mind, a slideshow of her maturing over the past fourteen years. Their feet had strolled down these same stones before, some years ago. She had been so much smaller then, so much more innocent. _Gone now, all of her illusions, except for good and evil. Perfect, just perfect. _ He wondered, though, if she wished for that simply purity, the normalcy she had lost.

They continued on in silence, each lost in their thoughts, until he saw fit to break it.

"Do you regret it, Master?"

Integra halted in mid-stride, then turned to face him. The pale curtain drifted to a halt, a golden cape upon a most deserving creature.

"Regret what?"

He bore into her with a searching, serious stare. "Regret who you are. Regret what you must do. Regret what you must be the Master of." Her eyes slipped out of focus, as Hellsing's celebrated director seemed to search for words to express her thoughts.

"No. I am Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. I cannot imagine a life as anyone else, in any circumstance. This is who I am. I could wish for nothing more, no greater honor." Her cerulean eyes shifted over to study the Manor, visible through the black outlines of the trees. "Part of the price of being the woman I am is the horrors I must face, for my country, Queen, ancestors, and myself. Each of the heads of Hellsing was born to be a leader, and it is the lot of the leader to endure many sorrows." Here her mask of indifference slipped, and for a moment, the servant could see the despair in the heart of the Master, but only for a moment. It was gone in the flicker of an eyelash. However, he would remember. He never forgot. "I have come to accept this. I realize, that in my future years, I will continue to be required to persevere, and will probably never find true peace." Here she paused, and her voice grew soft. "I could not see myself doing anything else. In any case, I wouldn't know what could possibly give me true happiness, if it was offered to me."

Neither could he. Alucard tried to see her, in all her glory, the content wife of some upper crust well-to-do, taking pleasant drives in the country and doting on her children. No, that would not please the Iron Maiden, nor would it be fitting of her magnificence. What would? He would dwell upon this later, in the dark confines of his stone chamber, passing the endless hours in thought. For now, however, this exchange was much more interesting, and he was particularly eager to hear the last piece of her answer. _So we shall see what is in the mind of Lord Hellsing._

Integra brought her gaze back to him, locking her eyes with his. "I am the Master because it is what I must be. It is part of myself… You have been my greatest challenge, Alucard, and will continue to be so. However, you have done my bidding with loyalty, and I could not ask for a better servant. No, I do not regret releasing the monster from his prison." She turned her back to him, continuing along the path, pale mantle fanning in her wake. He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. _She does not regret. A life of suffering, horror, death, and betrayal, and she does not regret. _He followed after her, admiring her effortless gravity, her form set afire in his vision by the sparkling moonlight. _You would be proud, Abraham. Your blood has awoken in the most marvelous manner. Pity you cannot see it._

"Do you regret it, Alucard?" He grinned wolfishly as his own query was turned upon him. "…Regret who you are. Regret what you have done. Regret who you must be the Servant of?" He did not stop as she had done, but they continued their journey down the worn footpath, laced by delicate moonbeams through the bare trees. She glanced at him over her shoulder, imperative countenance demanding an answer.

"No. I am Count Vlad Tepes III, Dracula, and the Impaler. I have seen ages, and will see ages. Nothing would give me more pleasure. I have the liberty of fulfilling my lusts, blood, and," He smiled, tracing her hidden curves with his mind, _Which I one day wish to have better freedom to explore,_ "… otherwise. What more is there?" The No-Life king took the brief luxury of inhaling the cool night air, fresh and crisp. His master continued at a set pace, silent and seemingly impassive. "I have bowed to many Hellsings in my time, _Master._ Many were weak, trembling cowards, crumbling in the face of the duties and sorrows of a leader. These men were unfit to scrape my boots. Long did I yearn to slay the incompetents and free myself, only to be restrained by the seals." He considered his next words carefully, running them over in his mind before letting them leave his lips. "Only two Hellsings have put fire in my veins, battle in my heart, purpose in my days. Abraham Van Hellsing was one, and you, Miss Hellsing, are the other. I have had and still do, the honor of serving both. No, Integra, I regret nothing."

She offered no answer, but from her bearing, his careful scrutiny could easily detect that she was pleased. _So she should be._

_

* * *

13 years ago-_

He leaned over her desk, flaming red eyes tracing her features. Her tie was crooked, her hair hung limp, and her grip on the pen almost threatened to shatter it. Alucard's elbows were planted on her desk, just above the top of the paper she was studying. He sat, patiently, waiting for her to snap. _Not much longer now._

"Alucard! Could you be any more disturbing?" She fairly snarled at him, owlish spectacles slipping down the bridge of her delicate nose. Narrowed blue eyes spat sparks at him, and her brows were furrowed in agitation.

"I haven't done anything, Master." He smiled, the picture of innocence spoiled by ivory fangs.

She buried her face in her hands, moaning in agitation. "I… just go away, Alucard, I'm very busy." The pen in her hand left a line of blue on her cheek, unnoticed.

He decided to ignore her, only able to by the lack of force behind the order. "It seems to me, Master," He flipped the paper over with two fingers, eyes locked with her newly-uncovered ones, "that you simply need a break."

"I don't need or want anything of the ki-," He cut her off by licking his ungloved finger and running it along the line of ink, which came away as it had never been. She froze, shocked, and he heart the pace of her heart speed up. _Master likes me, does she? Cute._ Sir Hellsing quickly suppressed her feelings, opening her mouth to yell.

"Ink," he explained, holing up the blue-smeared finger with a satisfied smirk. "As I was saying, I think it would be best if you had a bit of a rest."

"I'm not tired, Alucard." She reached for the paper, but he covered it with a hand.

"When was the last time you worked on your aim, Miss Director?" She blushed, ashamed.

"I don't remember. There's been so many papers… I haven't had time."

He stood, extending an inviting hand. "Why don't you make some time?" The request was soft, and she lowered her gaze to his outstretched palm. Her mind worked a mile a minute, and he stood still as a statue, waiting. Slowly, her own naked hand rose, and her fingers alighted lightly upon his.

They melted away, and the tradition was born.


	3. Numb

A/N: Another part completed. Thank you guys for your reviews! Each one brightens up my day. I wrote this bit, and laughed when I re-read it. Alucard sounds remarkably like a Jedi. (Bring on new reviews! I love to hear what the reader thinks!) 

I would just like to clarify: The "13 years ago" bit is NOT a typo. This story takes place during their fourteenth anniversary; therefore the very first anniversary would have been thirteen years ago. Fourteen years ago would have been the event itself.

Disclaimer: -sigh- I wish.

_13 years ago- The Hellsing Organization shooting gallery_

_**Blam!**_

The gun's kick snapped her wrists up, and momentarily robbed her of breath. The power, the thrill of pulling the trigger always ruled her, ever since that night, one year ago, when she had first shot a gun.

Integra slipped the shields off her ears, and they fell to hang about her neck by the connecting band. She slapped the button for the target to move all the way forward, enabling her to check her aim. The machinery whirred as the black silhouette traveled closer, until halting two feet from the booth.

Her shots had all gone wild, only two punching holes in the black form. Integra groaned, and leaned her back against the side of a stall, skirt swishing around her ankles. This was the third clip she'd emptied in thirty minutes, and had ranked up a total of twelve points. _Twelve. I'm amazed I even managed to shoot Uncle._

Soft footsteps sounded from behind her, and Alucard entered her field of vision. He'd left his chair, and leisurely walked over to her stall. He leaned his shoulder against the opposite partition, folding his arms, and studying the results of her session. _Or I suppose, the lack of result._

In one swift motion the midan ripped the paper off the metal clamps, crushing it before letting it drop to the gallery floor. She stared at him in surprise, as he turned his head to look at her. "Shooting like that is a waste of your time. You aren't seeing, or feeling, the target in your mind."

"Only vampires can do that." Integra stepped back up to the little counter, busying her hands with the task of reloading. She nearly jumped in shock as her servant pressed against her back, leaning over her small form.

"Untrue. Every mortal has a third eye, a sixth sense, that makes them dodge before the blow is going to fall, weep before the news has come, or feel impending disaster." He wound his arm around her shoulder, bringing one finger to rest squarely between her brows. "Vampires are simply given full use of this sense; it becomes as natural as seeing, or touching. But that doesn't mean you have to be undead to waken at least a very small part of it. Do you understand what I mean, Master?" His hand lifted to the ear shields, slipping them up, and settling the band on her head. Her perception of the world dulled, the sound of her own minute movements smothered. She watched as his hand wrapped around her right wrist, lifting it to center on a target that was not yet there.

She tapped the button with her left hand, then brought it up in the cup-and-saucer hold on the gun. Her left hand cupped the heel of her right hand, and her left thumb locked over her right. She leaned forward, and scooted her right foot back, cold against Alucard's. She was the picture of form.

His left hand spread on the counter, and his right slid slowly up her arm, shaking the gun. It came to rest against her neck, one finger lightly brushing her jaw. "Don't just look at the target, _feel _it. Center your whole being on the one spot between your enemy's eyes, and touch it with a bullet. _Do it._" She heard him clearly, his voice finding her ears through the heavy plastic. _I wonder, did I even hear him with my ears at all?_

She shoved the question to the back of her mind, along with the interesting sensation of Alucard's index finger tracing her jaw. She narrowed her eyes at the fresh, dark shape, illuminated by an angled light in the ceiling. Her heart's pounding slowed, the thumps few and far between. She became numb, unable to feel the skirt against her thighs or contact on her throat. Integra saw it, like it was an inch from her nose, the circle in the middle of the sable head. Her finger tensed on the trigger, a sluggish creak of bone.

"_Do it._"

_**Blam!**_

The shields were gingerly removed from her ears, and the vampire set them down on the white counter with a click. She pressed the button once more with shaking hands, and the paper jerked as the clamps slid along their wires. The target fluttered to a stop, and Integra stared, transfixed, at the neat hole in its forehead.

"Do you see _now_, Master?"

She made no reply, but was suddenly aware of the weight on the side of her throat. The icy digit still traveled along her jawbone, and she was sure that if Alucard had been a cat, he would be purring with satisfaction.

"Alucard, remove yourself… and never touch me like that again. Understood?"

"Yes, my Master." His hand fell from her body, and she felt him step away. She looked over her shoulder, and saw him return to his chair, a contented smile on his lazy features.

They spent the entire night there, her shooting, him watching in silence. Walter had not yet returned from a conference in America and there was no one to insist that Integra had to rest. It was not until the next morning, when Walter came into her office, that she discovered the reason for last night's event.

Walter rapped on the open door before entering, a tray of steaming tea balanced on his fingertips. Integra hardly looked up, finger following lines of text that she had to force her brain to recognize. She was exhausted from last night's adventure.

"Good Morning, Miss Hellsing, and congratulations." The butler set the tray down with the clink of silver, and proceeded to pour the drink. Integra looked up wearily, and clasped the hot tea with one hand, wincing at the burn.

"Good morning, and welcome back, Walter." She sipped at the fiery liquid, burning her tongue and effectively banishing any trace of weariness. Integra bit back a yelp, and set the cup down, as Walter carefully hid his amusement. All of a sudden, the last bit of his greeting caught up with her, and she studied him quizzically.

"Congratulations? What for?"

"Last night was the first anniversary of your leadership, Sir."

She frowned. "Walter, I wasn't knighted or given command of the Hellsing Organization for three more weeks."

Walter bowed, his eyes twinkling. "My mistake, Lord Hellsing. If you will excuse me, then…"

Integra waved him away, mind still buzzing with his words. _Last night was the anniversary of Uncle's death, and… Alucard._ Slowly, she smiled, finally comprehending. _What Walter means is that last night, one year ago, I took on the burdens of the family. And that's why Alucard… I see now._

Grinning, she returned to her work, gingerly sipping at the piping tea.

* * *

_Present Day-_

Seras tapped her fingers on the table, staring at the back cover of Walter's book. Pip had decided to sleep, and his rest made her sluggish as well. The vampiress reached over with her left arm, adjusting her new long-sleeved uniform. The mass of darkness that replaced her missing limb swayed in the confines of the cloth tube, capped by a glove sewn on to the end. Her Mas- _No, Alucard, _was trying to teach her how to give the nothingness shape, to fill the glove like she would with an arm of flesh and blood. The lessons were difficult, and certainly not any easier with Pip's voice whispering in her ear. Only recently had she managed to maintain the form for any length of time. Carefully, she moved a phantom muscle, and tendrils of shadow exploded out of the cuff, spilling over the wooden table.

She yelped in surprise, and Walter nearly fell out of his chair, book sailing into the air. The tea at his elbow went flying off of the table, liquid splashing everywhere. _The cup!_ Without stopping to think, Seras threw her mass of shadow out underneath the cup, and it landed on a cushion of darkness. She looked over at Walter, who had simultaneously snatched the poetry from midair. The vampiress smiled weakly, and brought the cup back to rest on the table. "I'm so sorry, Walter."

He set the book down on the table with a faint slap, and smiled ruefully. "Think nothing of it. I must say, being dead certainly has its advantages." He caught up a dishtowel, and began to mop up the mess. "For one thing, my back doesn't ache anymore when I clean." Seras looked down at her hand, and sighed. _But you sound miserable. Poor Walter… I wish it could be undone._

_Oh, how I wish…_

Then again, _would_ she really want to go back to being human? If she were human, Pip would be gone forever. _And I couldn't bear that._

_-Glad to hear it, ma cherie.-_ Pip murmured from the depths of her mind, his voice heavy with sleep.

_I love you._

_-Me too. I'm going back to zleep.- _She shook her head as he faded out once more. _Men._

Honestly though, she wasn't sure what she'd say, given the opportunity to be mortal. With the missions Hellsing undertook, mortals never lasted long. _It would be silly to just go and die again after returning from death. This may be better. _Her eye fell on the wriggling rope of blackness on the table, and she began to think again. _But look at me! I'm a MONSTER! I drank the blood of the only man I really loved… ugh…_ She buried her face in her hand, and moaned.

"What's wrong, Miss Victoria?" She looked up, and Walter stood next to her, concern in his eyes and sopping rag in tow.

"It's nothing, Walter. I'm just… thinking."

"I see."

* * *

Some way from the house, Master and Monster walked together, unknowingly lost in the same memory from long ago. 


End file.
